


Here's to the Night

by cinemariel



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Evil Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:43:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinemariel/pseuds/cinemariel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles starts experiencing Jekyll and Hyde-like mood swings, Lydia is the first to notice. Unfortunately, she doesn't notice soon enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In His Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I'd try my hand at some Evil Stiles after that 3B promo. The story and chapter titles are from the Jekyll & Hyde musical. Thank you so much for reading.

     The ropes dug into her skin. She strained against them. It would be easier to just relax and stop trying but she needed the distraction.  
     Nothing about this was okay. Nothing about this could be real.  
     But it was.  
     She should have known something was wrong with him. She should have known something about him had changed. She had known something was different, but she didn’t think this was this. 

One Week Earlier

     Stiles and Lydia were always paired together. Any time the pack needed to do something and split into pairs, Stiles and Lydia were always a duo.  
     When Lydia thought about it, it didn’t really make sense. Shouldn’t they each be paired with Allison or a wolf? If they were attacked, who was going to defend them?  
     She eyed Stiles who had his eyes glued on the road. Her eyes raked over his body. Lacrosse had given him decent enough muscles. Maybe he wouldn’t be totally useless in a fight. Her gaze stopped at his hands, wrapped around the wheel. It was hard to imagine them balled up into fists. She’d definitely be better off with Allison.  
     “Everything okay?” Stiles snuck a look at her. She couldn’t help but notice the genuine concern in his eyes. He wasn’t asking to fill the silence, or to prove to her he was paying attention. He really wanted to know.  
     “Mhmm,” she nodded, not wanting to admit that she was kind of checking him out.  
     They got to the area they were supposed to be searching. Stiles got out of the car and she could see him trying to hold himself back from racing over to the other side of the car and opening her door. That was his new thing lately, desperately trying to hide how much he cared about her. Like he didn’t want to burden her with his affection.  
     Somehow, Lydia found this even more of a burden. He thought about her so much. Sometimes it felt like his every action existed to cater to her and how she felt. It was hard sometimes, living up to the person Stiles saw her as.  
     She knew he was only on edge because of Aiden. It’s not like things had been easy between the three of them. She’d kissed Stiles to save him from a panic attack, become his anchor to the world of the living, and then started dating Aiden. Lydia remembered thinking her romantic life was complicated when she and Jackson started dating freshman year. Things had really changed.  
     Stiles led her into the building they were checking out. He opened the door and she slid past him. As she did, she couldn’t help but be put off by his scent. Laundry detergent, soap, and that undefinable boy smell. Lydia’s stomach clenched. She shook her head, trying to clear her head.  
     “Why don’t you check upstairs?” the words escaped her mouth before she could even think them over. She just wanted to put some distance between herself and Stiles and his stupid boy smell.  
     “You sure?” his face was full of concern. Why was he always like that? She could take care of herself.  
     “Yes, Stiles,” she snapped. “The sooner we’re done here, the sooner I can go home.”  
     “Okay- yeah, sure,” Stiles compulsively straightened the hem of his shirt.  
     Lydia pushed down a smile. Partially because she’d gotten what she wanted and partially because she always felt a small surge of pride whenever she made him squirm.  
     Lydia walked around the first floor, checking doors, corners, under the stairs. Nothing. This was a waste of time. They never found the evil thing before it wanted to show itself. Two years of this and you’d think they’d have learned to get ahead of the curve. But no. Evil always got the drop on them.  
     Just as she thought this, she heard a crash upstairs.  
     “Stiles!” she yelled, her heart jumping into her throat.  
     There was no answer. This was why they shouldn’t be paired together. He should have been with Scott. Scott could protect him. All Lydia could do was scream.  
     “Stiles!”  
     Lydia’s feet flew as she ran to the stairwell. She wrenched the door open and found herself face to face with-  
     “Hey,” Stiles smirked.  
     Lydia was breathless, her heart was beating a mile a minute and for a moment she couldn’t say a thing.  
     Stiles waited, watching her in amusement as she caught her breath.  
     “Stiles,” she exhaled. She hit him in the arm, which she couldn’t help but notice was very firm.  
     Stiles laughed.  
     Lydia did not like being laughed at.  
     “What the hell were you doing up there?”  
     “I knocked over some old paint cans,” Stiles said, still grinning at her knowingly. “Did I scare you?”  
     “Yes, you idiot. For all I know, you could have found the creepy monster Derek sent us after. For all I know, you could have been dead-”  
     “And you care?” Stiles raised an eyebrow.  
     His calm completely unnerved her. It was like they had switched places and suddenly it was Lydia who couldn’t keep it together around him.  
     What was she suppose to say? That she cared if he died? Of course she would care. They were friends. Friends were allowed to care if another friend died. But somehow, she didn’t think that was what he was implying.  
     “Of course, I-”  
     But he cut her off. Before she knew what was happening, one of Stiles hands had grabbed her by the back of the neck. He was pushing her up against the wall. His other hand found a place against the wall, next to her head. His lips crashed into hers and for a moment she couldn’t react. His thumb trailed down the side of her face as she felt him bite at her top lip. This couldn’t be the Stiles she’d kissed a month ago.  
Against her will, her lips shaped around his. She took his bottom lip between hers and he almost growled. And when he did she couldn’t help but practically sigh into his mouth. What the hell was going on?  
     Suddenly, the hand that had been on the wall was now on her hip. And it was moving its way up her body.  
Lydia slid one of her hands through his hair, the other clutched his shirt. She was pulling him as close to her as was humanly possible. He was so warm.  
She gasped as his hand slid up her shirt and made its way to her ribcage.  
She bent at the knees and without having to say anything, Stiles lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. He grinded into her and it was all she could do not to moan.  
     The wall scraped her back but she didn’t care. Stiles’ mouth had broken free from hers. We was kissing her jaw, now her neck. He stopped at her collarbone, his lips brushing up against it, faintly.  
     “Stiles,” she groaned.  
     His lips met hers again. Their teeth clacking together as they kissed.  
     She gasped for air, and rested her forehead against his, and looked into his eyes.  
     The first time she’d kissed him he’d stared at her in wonder, like he didn’t even know how to begin to tell her how perfect she was.  
     Now he just looked... hungry. 

One Week Later

     That’s when she should have known. If she hadn’t known when he kissed her without asking or made fun of her when she worried about his safety, she should have known when he had looked at her like that.  
But she didn’t.  
     Maybe it’s because her phone rang seconds after. It was Allison, telling them they’d better come back because she and Isaac had found something. It turned out to be a dead end. Evil had eluded them again.  
     Probably because it was staring Lydia in the face right now. And it looked just like Stiles.


	2. Dangerous Game

     “What did you do with him?” she asked, breaking the silence. The thought of Stiles tied up just like she was, not able to flail or fidget, popped in her head.  
     “Nothing,” he told her calmly. The Stiles she knew was never this still. He was always fidgeting or flailing. Who was this?  
     Lydia glared at him. He pulled up a chair right in front of her and sat down, looking her dead in the eye.  
     “I thought you liked the new me,” his voice got husky as he leaned in towards her.  
     Even thought it was the last thing she wanted, a blush spread across her cheeks. The same cheeks she could feel his breath tickling. She looked anywhere but into his eyes.  
     “Shut up,” she pushed the words out of her mouth, knowing she had to say something.  
     But still, the embarrassment raged up inside her as she remembered telling Allison about the kiss. She kicked herself internally as she recalled describing it in perfect detail. Allison had looked so stunned, she’d put her hand over her mouth to stifle her surprised laugh. That doesn’t sound like Stiles, she had said, looking around and making sure no one was listening. That’s because it wasn’t.  
     She thought about how all week she had been studying him, waiting for him to acknowledge what had happened. But he never did. He just gave her the same puppy dog grin he always did. He was just Stiles.  
     “Where is he?” Lydia changed the subject.  
     “You’re looking at him,” Stiles reclined in his chair, putting his arms behind his head. Lydia scolded herself for letting her eyes flit to the sliver of his stomach that was briefly exposed when his shirt rode up. He caught her looking and his smile widened.  
     “You’re not Stiles,” she insisted.  
     “What makes you say that?” he asked, clearly reveling in her distress.  
     “Because!” Lydia’s voice broke in frustration. “You’re just not. Everything you say, everything you do, it’s not him.”  
     But he just kept smiling like he couldn’t be more satisfied with himself if he tried. And it drove Lydia crazy. She had to get him talking. She had to find out where Stiles was.  
     “Also, you tied me to a chair. So I know you’re not exactly one of the good guys. Now tell me, where is he?”  
     He shrugged and gave her a blank smile. Like he just didn’t have a clue.  
     Lydia let out a small scream of frustration.  
     “Sorry, did you miss when I was a little easier to order around?” he asked.  
     “Yes!” she yelled, exasperated.  
     He threw back his head and laughed and for a second he looked just like the Stiles she knew. She felt a pang in her chest. Wherever he was, Lydia really hoped he was okay.  
     “Okay, Lydia,” he scooted his chair as close to her as possible. “I’ll tell you. You’re right I’m not him.”  
     He laid his hand on her shoulder and started to trail his fingers down her arm. He leaned in and his breath tickled her ear as he whispered into it.  
     “This body is his,” he told her as she tried to ignore the heat coming off of his hands.  
     “But Stiles... isn’t home,” he tapped his temple with the other hand. Lydia couldn’t help but notice the freckles all over his face. She remembered her Stiles.  
     “Then where is he?” she asked again through gritted teeth.  
     “He’s still up here,” he explained, playing with the buttons on her sweater. “I push Stiles aside... and I come out to play,”  
     “So you’re in his head?” Lydia asked. “Can he hear me?”  
     “No,” he shook his head. “When I’m out, Stiles is stuck in here. He wakes up and doesn’t know where he’s been or what he’s done. Sound familiar?”  
     He cupped his hand under her chin and she wrenched out of his grasp. Angry tears filled her eyes but she blinked them back.  
     “Fuck you,” she hissed.  
     A slow smile spread across his face.  
     “Maybe later.”  
     He backed away. She looked around, she was clearly in the building they had checked. Stiles must have found something when he was looking upstairs. This was her fault. They should have stuck together.  
     She had to save him somehow.  
     “He found you up here, didn’t he?” she asked, desperate to know more.  
     She saw a flicker of something in his eyes. Recognition? Respect? Fear?  
     “Maybe he’s right, you’re not as stupid as you look,” he said.  
     “Have you been him all week?” she asked.  
     “Not the whole time, no,” he answered, one corner of his mouth curving up. “He was wondering why you were acting so strangely around him. Allison too. Did you tell her about the kiss?”  
     Lydia looked down at the floor, her silence answering him.  
     “Wow, Lydia,” he drew closer to her, kneeling down and catching her gaze. “Jackson, Aiden, Me. You really have a type, don’t you?”


	3. Someone Like You

     It was all Lydia could do not to scream in his face. But she realized, the fact that he knew these things about her meant something.   
     “Do you know everything he knows?” Lydia asked, grasping at straws, trying to keep the conversation going.   
     “Everything,” his eyes traveled up her body. His tongue darted out of his mouth to lick his lips suggestively. Lydia tried not to shudder.   
     “Prove it,” she ordered.   
     “How?” he asked, looking agitated, but also eager to prove himself. And that’s what she was counting on. That, like her Stiles, he couldn’t resist a challenge.   
     “Tell me something only he would know,” she commanded.   
     “Like what?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. “The kid’s an open book. He doesn’t keep a lot under wraps. Case in point, you already know about his pathetic crush on you.”  
     He had her there. Stiles’ openness was something that had always scared her. Being that vulnerable was not in her DNA. But she could look at Stiles and now how he felt in an instant. And then, in case other people hadn’t deciphered it, he would shout it out, usually while flailing his arms. She gazed at the thing in front of her, wearing Stiles’ face, but still as a statue.   
     “When?” she asked, trying to lean forward despite her bonds.   
     “Since the third grade,” he scoffed. “Come on, Lydia, he only says it five times a day.”  
     “When did he know he loved me?” she asked. “You know so much about Stiles when did he know he loved me? And really loved me? Not some stupid school boy crush.”  
     He paused, taken aback. She kept going, tears pricked at the back of her eyes. Partially because this was a terrifying situation and partially because this was the most honest she’d every been about Stiles.   
     “Because they way he looks at me nowadays, it’s not the same as back then. I know how he feels. You think you know everything in his head, tell me when he knew.”  
     Her challenge hung in the air. He looked up at the ceiling, as if he was collecting his thoughts.   
     “At the dance,” the words came out in a rush, like a dam braking. “He tried treating you like Jackson did. He thought that was what you wanted. But he wasn’t any good at it and all this other stuff poured out. The things he knew about you and liked about you. And instead of turning him down, you told him you wanted to win the Field’s Medal and you danced with him. And he knew it wasn’t because he had acted cool or called you out, you were rewarding him for knowing you. He had recognized something about you and you had seen something in him. It wasn’t just him looking at you from afar and wishing he could say the right thing. He’d done it on accident and you liked it. That’s when I knew- he knew.”  
     He looked dazed, Lydia knew this was her time to pounce.   
     “I didn’t know then,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.   
     His eyes snapped up to her face. He stared at her intently.   
     “I never know how I feel until I’ve already felt that way for a while,” she admitted. “Over the summer, after Jackson left. I thought about how you must have felt after you hit him with his Jeep and I told him how I felt. If I were you, I would have been pissed. Jackson had been nothing but terrible to me but there I was, with him, not you.”  
     He blinked. Lydia thought she saw something flicker across his face and she kept going, hoping against hope that she was right.  
     “But then I remembered your face, you were so sad. But you weren’t mad at me. Not at all. You put my happiness before yours, not because you thought I would notice and feel bad for you but because you actually care about it. And it’s not just me. You always look out for everyone. You notice all of us. You’re never afraid to tell me what you think. I love you, Stiles.”  
     His eyes bored into hers. She couldn’t tell if he was going to scream, hit her again, kiss her, or what. She held his gaze, hoping against hope that what she had done was enough.   
     “Lydia?” he finally croaked after what felt like an eternity.  
     “Stiles?”   
     “Wha- where are we?” he swayed and grabbed onto her for support. “You’re tied up.”  
     “Stiles-”  
     “You’re crying,” he involuntarily reached to wipe the tears off her cheeks, that look of concern back on his face. “Lydia, what’s going on?”  
     “It’s okay,” she told him. “You’re okay. You didn’t hurt me.”  
     Stiles fumbled, trying to untie her bonds.   
     “I’ve been blacking out- I didn’t want to freak anybody out. Did I do this?” his voice broke and Lydia used her free hand to cup his chin and tilt his head up so he was looking right at her.   
     “It’s okay. We’re going to figure this out.”  
     Stiles brought his own hand up and held hers to his cheek and gave her a small smile. No one needed to tell Lydia who he was or how he felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading Here's to the Night. I really enjoyed writing it. It didn't come out as dark as I initially intended it to, but I'm a sucker for happy endings. Hope you liked it!


End file.
